The last beast, growling and shaking its head, retreated backwards, edging closer and closer to the warriors who were streaming out of the siege tower one by one.
“Helmer.”
“Yes, Hadji?” Helmer answered, playing with his daggers.
“I have a crazy idea,” Hadjar whispered, watching the dozens of soldiers running down the stairs of the siege tower.
“Do you ever have any other kind?”
Chapter 1968
Hadjar stepped aside and kicked an enemy helmet into the air with the toe of his boot. It was a standard half helmet without a faceplate, and it had a long, metal strip protecting the nose instead. There was nothing remarkable about this helmet, except for its lightness and the fact that it was smeared with the remains of the liquid fire that trebuchets occasionally launched at enemy lines.
Helm
